


the shadowsinger's talents

by leafygreenturtle



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Anal Sex, Azriel showing off Truth-Teller, BDSM, Begging, Blindfolds, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Dom Rhys, Double Penetration, F/M, Female receiving oral, Knifeplay, Maledom, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Overstimulation, PWP, Porn Without Plot, Roleplay, Smut, Teasing, Threesome, dom azriel, sub feyre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25307359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafygreenturtle/pseuds/leafygreenturtle
Summary: Smutty roleplay fic. Rhys brings Feyre to his shadowsinger and tells him to make her beg. Azriel, with the same skills and patience he uses to torture his enemies, tortures Feyre with pleasure while Rhys watches.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand/Azriel
Comments: 9
Kudos: 126





	the shadowsinger's talents

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of a companion fic to my fanfic “i want your crown”, in which Rhys hints at this scenario, but you don’t need to read that in order to understand this.

“Are you sure about this?” Rhys asked for a final time. They had gone over safewords, and Feyre had actually been the one to suggest the roleplay, but he also knew she’d never done anything like this before.

Feyre rolled her eyes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Yes. Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Then cuff me,” she said, and held out her wrists.

His eyes went dark with lust as he stared at her outstretched hands, the revealing cut of her black silk and lace lingerie. At the image of submission it made.  
Slowly, not removing his gaze from hers, he reached for the padded iron cuffs on the bed. Iron, for more dramatic effect, but padded for her comfort. He couldn’t deny the effect it had on his body to watch her as he secured the cuffs around her wrist.

His thumb brushed a peaked nipple, and he tugged lightly on it, drawing a soft moan from her. Unable to help himself, he lowered his head to suck lightly at it, twirling his tongue around it. She arched her back, giving him greater access, and with his free hand, he squeezed her other breast, massaging it until she moaned again.

He broke away and licked his lips, then reached for the other chain on the bed, the one connected to small metallic nipple clamps, and secured that to her next. When he was done, he ran his finger along the chain, admiring his work, and said, “Ready?”

She nodded, and he jerked the chain in his hand to get her to follow him. He chuckled as she cried out at the sudden stab of pain on her breasts, and led her through the winding passageways of this underground dungeon. She kept close enough to him that the chain between them hung loose, but every now and then, he would jerk it again, just to keep her on her toes.

He led them down the dungeons, to the bottom-most floor. There was no light here, save for the single faelight Rhys held in the palm of his hand so that he could see where they were going. Feyre shivered in her exposed clothing. It was damp and cold here and reeked of pain and misery.

Feyre swallowed hard as Rhys led her through the archway. They had certainly done a good job of making this realistic.

Once inside, Rhys shut the door, and handed her chain to Azriel, whose beautiful face revealed nothing. Rhys had leaned against the wall opposite them, and was now watching them.

Azriel was in his Illyrian leathers, Truth-Teller strapped to his thigh, and all seven cobalt siphons were glowing faintly as he approached her. His face was his usual mask of ice, and he yielded nothing as he tugged her chain until she stumbled a bit onto the iron cross in the middle of the room. As soon as she did, iron cuffs snapped around her ankles, and Azriel switched out her wrist cuffs for ones attached to the cross.

He unsheathed Truth-Teller and turned it over in his hands, as if committing the blade to memory. He saw her looking, and smiled.

“Don’t worry. You’ll become very acquainted with this blade while you’re here.”

She didn’t answer, because she didn’t think she was supposed to.

Azriel spoke to Rhys without breaking his gaze with Feyre. “How should I punish her, High Lord?”

Rhys gave her a sinful smile, and said, “I want her begging by the time you’re done.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest, in anticipation and desire. But Azriel was done waiting, it seemed. He ran the tip of Truth-Teller’s blade over her collarbones, the tops of her breasts, then he circled patiently around the peak of her breast until she was panting, and struggling to stay still.

He pressed the blade harder into her, still not breaking skin, but enough to make her sweat a little bit at having something so sharp on skin so sensitive. She could feel it scraping against her. Just a little bit more pressure, and he would cut her.

He smiled at her as if he knew every thought in her head, as if he could read her like an open book. She thought he probably could.

But he brought the blade to her shoulders, where the straps of her lingerie were held up.

“Don’t move,” he said with a dark quiet, and she didn’t dare to so much as breathe as he cut the lace and velvet slip away with his dagger. She gasped as he came so, so close to breaking skin, but it was done. The slip fell away, and she was fully naked now.

Her gaze slid to Rhys, who was watching intently from where he still leaned against the wall. She saw the tightness in his pants, and the darkness of his eyes, but Rhys seemed otherwise casual. Relaxed. Content to watch her for hours on end.

A flurry of movement caught her attention. Azriel had brought out a silk black tie, and was now reaching behind her to tie it around her eyes. She was shocked at how much light it blocked out. There was complete darkness around her.

Rhys spoke from the wall, as if sensing her silent question, and drawled, “It’s infused with my magic. Wouldn’t want you peeking.”

She wondered, for a brief moment, if his magic was an extension of him—if he could feel her through his magic touching her.

All thoughts drained from her head, however, as Azriel shifted the metal cross she was strapped to so that she was laying on her back with her legs spread. Her heart pounded incessantly. She could feel how exposed she was to him, how he must be able to see everything. She had the sudden urge to close her legs.

His hand brazenly cupped her, and he murmured, “You’re so wet. But you’re not going to come for a long time.”

When she didn’t respond, he leaned in close so that her breath brushed against her ear, and said with quiet calm, “When I speak to you, you will answer with ‘Yes, Spymaster.’”

She shivered, her breasts tightening to the point of pain. “Yes, Spymaster.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Good.”

“Now let’s play a game, Feyre,” he said. “I’m going to touch you, and taste you, and you’re going to beg me to fuck you. If you do it well, I might let you come.”

When she was silent for too long, she felt the chain attached to her nipples being yanked taut. She bowed forward, as much as she could in her restraints, and cried out.

Azriel’s voice was all lethal calm. “What did I say?”

“Yes, Spymaster,” she gasped. He kept the chain taut for a moment longer, enjoying the way her body tensed at the pain, the way her nipples reddened until they bruised.

Finally, he released her, and she slumped back, breathing heavily.

He slid two fingers into her mouth, and she closed around him hungrily, sucking and licking his fingers. He took those slicked fingers and brushed them over her wet folds. She was red, and so wet that his fingers almost slid all the way in accidentally. But he fucked her with his fingers slowly, and knelt so he could lick and suck the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs. She arched her back, a moan slipping from her, and her legs trembled around him.

“Don’t come,” he reminded her. “Or I’ll punish you.”

She moaned, loud and long, and gasped out, “Please.”

He continued fucking her with his fingers, using the heel of his hand to press down on her clit, and she ground herself on it as best as she could with her legs strapped. “You’ll have to do better than that,” Azriel said, amused.

From the wall, Rhys watched and stroked himself slowly, lazily. He sent a flicker of his power to hold her hips in place, so she couldn’t grind on Azriel’s hand anymore, and she whimpered in protest.

“No moving,” Rhys said smoothly.

“Please, please,” she tried again. “Please let me come.”

Azriel laughed softly, as he rose, fingers still moving inside her, and tugged gently on the chain. She moaned, the sound so erotic that it took all of his self control not to bury himself in her. But he could wait.

He lowered his head and teased the tops of her breasts, the undersides of it, with his tongue and teeth. She begged him for more, more, more, and he ignored her.

Azriel reached a hand to slide the blindfold off her eyes, and held up Truth-Teller so that the hilt faced her.

“I want you to see this,” he said, and she blinked to adjust her eyes to the low light of the dungeon. She realized what he going to do a split second before he slid the gorgeous hilt of that legendary dagger into her, fucking her slowly with it.

She moaned, tossing her head back as she felt him building up a rhythm with the hilt of the dagger inside her. He sunk it deeper into her, and she whimpered as she tried to hold back her release. She wanted him inside her. But Azriel only continued to monitor her breathing, her face, as he continued moving the handle of the blade inside her and withholding from her what she wanted most.

“I’m going to come,” she gasped. “Please stop,” she begged. “Slow down. Please.”

“You won’t come,” Azriel said calmly, as if he was completely unaffected by the sight of her, wet and spread out and begging for him. At his mercy. “You won’t come, Feyre,” he repeated, “Because I told you not to.” He ran a finger over her wetness and licked it. She shivered, but it was true. Her body obeyed him.

“Please, Spymaster, please fuck me,” she breathed. “Please let me come. I want to feel you inside me. I want to feel you coming inside me. Please, please, please. ”

“What will you give me?” he asked, tugging on her chain again. He slid the dagger out of her, and she moaned at the slickness she saw coating it.

“Anything,” she said trying to squirm, to create any bit of friction. Rhys’s magic held her completely immobile, however, and she almost cried in frustration.

Azriel brought the hilt of the dagger to her lips. “Suck it clean,” he ordered. She did, eagerly. He slid the blindfold back over her eyes.

“Anything,” Azriel mused, repeating her words back to her. “That’s a dangerous promise.”

“Please. Anything.”

His finger slid from her pussy, lower, and he gently pressed there. She groaned, wanting more of anything from her. She wanted him inside her, inside her so fully she could never forget the taste or feel of him.

“But I already have everything,” he said. “I could fuck you anywhere I wanted, and you wouldn’t stop me. Would you, Feyre?”

She moaned, nodding. “Yes, yes you have everything. I’m yours.”

He slid three fingers now into her wet heat, and she quivered from the feeling of pleasure without release. “Is this yours?” he asked. “Is this pretty, wet cunt yours?”

“No,” she gasped out. “It’s yours. And—and the High Lord’s.”

As if in answer, Rhys’s magic flared around her, and she felt him send a flicker of his power around her thighs, teasing her slowly. But he was silent as ever, and with the blindfold, she could not see him. She wanted him to touch her. It was unbearable, having him deny her his touch.

“Say it,” Azriel coaxed. “Say ‘this pretty, wet cunt is yours.’”

“This pretty, wet cunt is yours and the High Lord’s,” she said, blushing red despite the fact that she’d already showed herself to him, and begged, a few words should have been nothing compared to that.

“That’s right, Feyre,” Azriel praised. His fingers pulled out of her and he circled her ass again. Lightly, taunting her. “And this? Who does this belong to?”

“You,” she said. “And the High Lord.”

“Well, that took less time than I expected,” a deep, smooth voice at her ear said. She jumped a bit. Rhys. She hadn’t heard him move.

He slid the blindfold from her eyes, and she blinked to adjust to the low light of the room again.

“Miss me?” he chuckled. His hand gently squeezed her breasts, and she was about to reply, when he yanked the nipple clamps off her chest without warning. She cried out, shaking and relieved. Her nipples were sore and bruised from the unrelenting torment, and Rhys gently licked and sucked them to ease the hurt.

“I told you my shadowsinger would break you,” he said into her ear.

She only moaned, too far gone to form coherent words. “Rhys,” she pleaded, forgetting to call him by his title. He didn’t chastise her for it, though.

Azriel was now undoing her ankle and wrist cuffs, and she rubbed her wrists as they came free and she stumbled off the cross. Rhys held her to keep her from falling over, and he slid a hand down to her pussy to feel her wetness.

He groaned softly at what he found. “You’re drenched,” he said. Without any further prelude, he pushed her against the wall and slid into her. She groaned in ecstasy. She was so wet, and it felt so good, she never wanted it to stop.

She saw Azriel stroking himself as he at last undid the buckle on his pants, but only just so he could pull out his cock.

Rhys began fucking her, lifting her up against the wall and thrusting into her hard and fast. She begged him for more, and he gave her everything she wanted.

“Come for me, Feyre,” he said at last, and she did, shaking and crying out as her release swept over her. He came in her a heartbeat later, and for a long moment afterwards, they just breathed and breathed.

Finally, Rhys gently eased her off the wall, and she stood on her feet. Azriel was hard and ready for her, and his cock was glistening—with oils. He’d prepared for her.

“Turn around,” he said, and she did, feeling him come up behind her. Rhys, on her other side, began sucking gently at the bruised tip of her breast.

“I don’t take sloppy seconds,” he whispered into her ear, and she realized what he intended, what the oil was for. “Since he fucked your pussy...” he trailed off, rubbing the head of his length against her ass. She stiffened instinctively, but didn’t stop him. Rhys was slowly warming and waking her body again, coaxing it to relax with slow, openmouthed kisses on her breasts, her thighs.

Azriel placed his hands on her hips, and slowly pushed into her, rolling his hips to bury every inch of him inside her. He was so big, he stretched her out with each thrust inside her. She winced a little in discomfort, but there was no pain, and he had prepared himself well.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned. “You’re squeezing my cock dry.”

He thrust into her slow and hard, and ripped a groan from deep in her throat. Rhys was sucking and kissing and nipping her breasts, his hand pressing down on that sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs. The sensations were too much, all at once, and she came with a hoarse cry.

Azriel spilled inside her a moment later, and he kept coming for what seemed like forever. When he at last finished, panting, his cock was still half-hard inside her.

She looked at Rhys to find him fully hard now, his cock throbbing and leaking precum. Her voice was wrecked with pleasure and exhaustion as she said, “I can’t. Please.” She was too sensitive from her two huge orgasms, and if Azriel weren’t holding her, she thought she might have collapsed from exhaustion.

Rhys merely shushed her, and led her to a bed that hadn’t been there before. She didn’t care where it had come from. She collapsed into it, thinking he would let her sleep, but Rhys merely turned her over on her stomach, and said, “I’m not done with you.”

She whimpered as he slid into her smoothly, without further warning. “And don’t you dare fall asleep while I’m inside you.”

She cried out as he began fucking her, setting a fast pace that had her climbing towards that glorious high again, despite the fact that her body was unprepared for another orgasm so soon. She was so sensitive, and every thrust had her screaming and sobbing, but eventually, the discomfort gave way to pleasure and she came for a third time.

Rhys didn’t stop moving in her though, even when she begged him to stop and she was so sensitive she thought she’d explode from the sheer ecstasy of it. He knew her body so well, he could bring her to orgasm even when she didn’t want to. At some point, Azriel had come up behind her and begun fucking her ass while Rhys was still inside her. And at the feeling of two full-fledged Illyrian warriors being inside her at the same time, being filled so fully, by her mate and his shadowsinger, she came for a final, fourth time.

Gasping, half-delirious with pleasure, she laid on her back as both males pulled out of her and collapsed next to her on the bed. Her legs were trembling uncontrollably, and both of their cum was leaking out of her onto the bed, mixing with her own wetness. Azriel appeared a the foot of the bed with a small teardrop shaped plug and held it up for her.

“My cum is going to stay inside you while you sleep.”

She flushed, the words sending a white-hot line through her, but lifted her hips for him. She was so wet, it slid in easily, and she moaned as he shoved it all the way in. When he was done, he pressed his wet fingers at her lips, and she moaned and sucked it clean.

Feyre could feel sleep beckoning, but before she fell asleep, she managed to kiss Rhys on the mouth, and say, “That was amazing.”

He slid a hand over her back, massaging. “I know. Are you okay?”

“Better than okay,” she said. “But I’m sleepy.”

“Sleep,” Rhys said. “We’ll clean you up.”

She nodded, grateful, and turned to Azriel before sleep took her completely. “You were amazing, too. We should do this—” she yawned, “Again.”

She added, with mischief shining in her eyes, “Everything they saw about Illyrians and their wingspans is true.”

Rhys chuckled, and even Azriel laughed. He watched her with a faint smile as she fell asleep, and then turned to Rhys, “Careful,” he said, mirth dancing in his eyes. “If she spends too much time with me, she might see what she’s missing.”

Rhys grinned, “When Feyre darling wakes up, let’s let her decide, shall we? Over and over again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Send me prompts/comments, or just drop in say hi at my tumblr @rhysandswhore


End file.
